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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27902206">Burning Contact</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/izurukamukurapudding/pseuds/izurukamukurapudding'>izurukamukurapudding</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I uh have no idea what to tag this with?, M/M, Oma Kokichi loves his bf, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape Recovery, Saihara Shuichi Is Not Having A Good Time, Sexual Abuse, a whole day, kind of past but by like, no beta we die like men, pre-established saihara shuichi/oma kokichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:40:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27902206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/izurukamukurapudding/pseuds/izurukamukurapudding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Saihara had been missing for a month now, and Ouma would be damned if he wasn't going to do everything in his power to get the love of his life safe and sound again.<br/>--<br/>In which Saihara becomes a victim of human trafficking.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Finally You Find Him, Just Remember Not To Scare Hi- Oops.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TW/CWs: References sexual abuse, minor violence, descriptive panic attack(s), basically Saihara suffering.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saihara trembled against the cold.</p><p> </p><p>But he liked the cold, as opposed the burning burning <em>burning</em> sensation of hands roaming against his skin. Holding him, caressing him, <em>touching</em> him. Ew. </p><p> </p><p>It was nighttime, then, considering the darkness of the ground. Or maybe early morning, he thought, but probably nighttime. Somewhere from 12-3? That was usually when things like this happened. Every inch of his body screamed at every step of the man carrying him. Burning contact that ate away at his safety. He was being bought, was the situation, and it brought on a new wave of horror. He'd adapted to the routine of being hurt like this, he knew what was coming, every time somebody entered the concrete room he'd been kept in. He would know what was coming. But now, being handed off to one singular person, he had absolutely no idea what was coming to him. No clue what their methods were or how often or how much or... anything. Previously he'd shut off his mind, blank and numb and empty, because it was infinitely better than feeling everything. Every hit and every jab and slice and touch and every moment of vile, <em>vile</em> pleasure and... Well, safe to say, Saihara was once again painfully aware of everything. Now that he didn't know what to expect, at least. Axniety bubbling up and overflowing, drowning him and filling his lungs. Though his mind was still foggy and distant from sleep deprivation, hunger, dehydration, the lot. His thoughts muddled together and drifted without any clear distinction. Hell, he wasn't sure he was even thinking in words, just concepts. At least he was getting some fresh air. It was probably winter-ish, no snow or ice that he could see, but the air was crisp and cold like it was during winter. The last time he remembered being outside it was early October. Just how long had it been? It felt like years.</p><p> </p><p>Saihara's thoughts stopped and fell silent entirely as he was thrown to the sidewalk with a sickening thud. At least the concrete was cold here. He closed his eyes, listening to the voices talk about him. His head hurt now.</p><p> </p><p>"-and, as you can tell, he's already been broken. Complicit in ev'rything. Deadest eyes I ever seen." Came the voice of one of his captors.</p><p>"Right. I can see that." A lighter, unfamiliar voice replied. It was deep but seemed very fake in that regard. "Just hurry up and put him in my damn car, yeesh."</p><p> </p><p>There was some more grumbling, before Saihara was grabbed again and carried a little ways away. Then he was thrown in the trunk of a car, staring up at what he could see. Maybe one day, if he ever got saved, he could recall their faces and voices. But probably not. There were three, there, two of which he already recognized. He focused his eyes weakly on the third. A very small frame on a very short body. Most was obscured by the mask the boy wore, but otherwise there weren't many defining features. Messy hair that seemed to be black (thought it could have been a trick of the light), pale skin, eyes hidden by the hair as well. Saihara would.. probably get a better look at him later, though, he thought grimly. He closed his eyes again, weariness seeping into his bones. Maybe he could just... rest, for the time being. He might not get that for another long, long while. He just needed to prepare himself for whatever would come next, was all. Mentally and physically.</p><p>--</p><p>Before he knew it, street lights filled the cramped space as the door was lifted. Orange-yellow luminescence obscured by a head. Saihara's tired, dead eyes dragged up to the face of whoever it was. Too dark to see, he thought distantly, leftover fatigue from his 'nap' clouding his mind.</p><p>"Shuichi! Shuichi.. It's okay now, you're safe, Shumai. I have you now." An all too familiar voice rang. Saihara's mind stopped, reeled, did a double take. Ouma? Was it Ouma? Or was he so distressed he'd begun to hallucinate, mind compensating for all the pain and fear? He didn't know if he could trust the voice, but, god, did he want to.. Want to give in to the feeling of comfort, let the words caress him in a gentle, kind warmth. </p><p>"Ko... Kichi...?" He knew it was dangerous, knew it was a bad idea to speak, in case it wasn't his boyfriend. In case he wasn't safe. In case it were a stranger and he would end up subjecting himself to more pain, over a false hope, burning bright like the sparks of a fire and growing and growing as every second passed without pain, passed in safety and in the cool of night. The world swirling around him empty and thin.</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, it's me, Kokichi... I found you, I finally..." A comforting hand hung in the air, hovering, too afraid to touch, too afraid to scare Shuichi away into nothingness. Oh, how badly Shuichi longer for that hand to make contact, a fake comfort or not. Tears sprung to his eyes, he trembled. His tired mind, drawing to a conclusion, afraid and clouded by the constant looming of danger. The wrong conclusion, feeling so correct in his mind, making him feel so certain. As though it belonged, slotted away with truth, an unknown imposter unbeknownst to him. He had only one coherent thought, beneath the trembling and crying and pounding in his head: <em>Kokichi is going to hurt me.</em></p><p>Breaths ragged and shaky ripped through his his lungs, begging and pushing to leave through his throat, clawing their way up and out his mouth. Pushed down by gasps, his feeble mind begging to breathe, breathe, breathe, forcing and shoving down exhales with inhales. Burning his esophagus and making him feel like it was being torn apart more than it already had been. </p><p>"Woah, woah, Shuichi.." A worried voice, sickly sweet, coated in deception and malice. How could Saihara have been so dumb? To think Ouma wasn't responsible, didn't send him out to be broken and used so he didn't have to break the boy himself. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not, I promise I'm not lying. I- I wouldn't lie about something like this." A face without any hints or traces of a smile, no implication of some sick joke. Plain and bare with a tinge of concern. Ouma always was good at lying, good at faking his emotions. He'd easily be able to pretend to care just to throw him to the wolves and hurt him and get him hurt and <em>betray</em> him. "Shuichi..." He almost sounded dismayed, upset. Saihara knew better. "Let's just get the zip ties off of you, and get you inside, okay..?"</p><p><em>No, no, no, no, no.</em> He didn't want to go inside, he didn't want to be hurt again. Ouma was smaller and lighter but Saihara was so, <em>so</em> weak. Too weak to fight him off or run. Too weak to get to safety. His breath hitched in his throat, threatening to explode and burst open his skin and shatter his bones. He shoved himself against the far end of the trunk, trembling, holding his hands close to his chest and his knees up to his stomach. It was useless, he knew that, he was too weak to hold himself together and not let Ouma hurt him. That Ouma probably liked a challenge, probably liked seeing him fight for nothing, knowing he'd have nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. No home of his own, no energy to run away and find Momota or Akamatsu. </p><p>The fog in his mind grew heavier. Denser with every rushed inhale and exhale, wrapping around him and clouding him from any thoughts. The world grew distant and empty and dark. His limbs were numb and his chest was heavy with exhaustion, shallow breaths pushing against leaden ribs. There was nothing but fear and pain. Nothing but the lack of oxygen with every breath, the tingling in his hands and the <em>raw terror.</em> Everything was fading away, he was losing himself, panic gripping at him and throwing him around. Maybe he was dying. Death would be better. He closed his eyes, too weak and weary and scared to not, and slipped away from the world. Maybe death wasn't so bad.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Saihara Stop Crying You're Dehydrated</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Saihara can maybe calm down, now.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Made a floorplan for their apartment. That tiny empty room is the bathroom I just forgot to put stuff there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Saihara... Did not know how much time had passed between the car and now.</p><p>Sunlight, warm in color and temperature, filtered through the living room window. Saihara sat on the couch, knees to his chest, neck aching from being craned down in his unconscious state. His chest wasn't as heavy with fatigue anymore. Emptiness filled his mind where fear and panic had previously sat. His throat was raw and warm from hyperventilating. The house was comfortable, still cold, but Saihara was always cold. The couch was soft. All his limbs ached. He had no idea where Ouma had gone to. The apartment was small, so there were only so many places the boy could be. He didn't know what to believe, what to trust. Whether to be afraid or not. Shuffling came from the hallway, light footsteps down towards the living room. A slight hint of urgency in them. Saihara dragged his gaze up and over as Ouma approached. He'd stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Saihara awake, a mixture of nervousness and excitement and relief evident in Ouma's eyes. </p><p>"Shuichi.. Hey, you finally woke up." Ouma greeted in a soft voice, mustering up as much love and kindness as he could in it. "Are you still scared, of me?" He cocked his head, awaiting an answer anxiously.</p><p>"Uh." Saihara... did not know the answer himself. Realistically he knew that Ouma didn't have bad intentions. Fear clawed at his throat anyway, painful and sharp. He did not know the right way to respond. "I- I..." It hurt so much to try and speak. Tears welled up in his eyes and he pressed a shaky hand against his face. He shouldn't cry, not like this, not right now. He sucked in a deep breath.</p><p>"... That's okay, you don't have to answer. I can read you just fine, Shumai." Ouma still sounded... disappointed, kind of, but also relieved and sad and tired. Saihara knew he shouldn't be hesitant, that Ouma was safe and would never hurt him. He couldn't stop his mind from spiraling, because what if he <em>wasn't</em> safe? He had to be prepared. Just in case. "You're safe now, Shu... You really are, I promise. You're home now, and, I love you. I'd never do anything you wouldn't want me to, okay? I'd never hurt you."</p><p>Saihara... wanted to believe him so badly. He wanted to feel as safe as Ouma said he was. He stole another deep breath. It wasn't worth it, the risk of believing him. He hugged his legs tightly and shoved his head in his knees and felt frustration bubble up through his chest and out his eyes. He should have been happier, this moment should have been filled with smiles and hugs and tears of <em>relief</em>. Not... this, whatever this was. Not Saihara still too hurt to trust his own boyfriend, the love of his life. Shakily he brought his hands up to his hair and started tugging, trying to ground himself, pulling and pulling on his own hair. It didn't hurt when he did it to himself like it did when others did it to him. It hurt, but in the good way, the way that reminded him where he was. He pulled harder. He was being selfish and rude to Ouma who had done God knows what to find him. He was being stupid and a burden. He pulled harder. And harder and harder and harder and-</p><p>Ouma had grabbed his wrists in a moment of panic, hadn't he? Slowly Saihara's hands were pulled away from his head, teary taupe eyes meeting alarmed purple. The contact did not hurt, it did not burn. It was warm, pleasant, familiar. Saihara's breath caught in his throat as Ouma dropped his arms, murmuring an apology about touching him without asking. He missed the touch already, longing for the contact that didn't make him feel like his skin was burning to dust and ashes. He rested his forehead on his knees again, feeling like he was missing something, his mind growing numb and distant and blank again. </p><p>"Take a deep breath... Shuichi. I'll go get you some water." Ouma walked away from the couch, looking a little dismayed. Saihara almost wanted to beg him to not go, to stay with him, hold him and tell him everything would be okay. But he couldn't even talk, could he? It was useless and dumb. He could hear the faucet running, see Ouma coming back, feel himself visibly relax when his boyfriend arrived again. He had no idea how to feel and his mind kept flip-flopping from fear to love to nothing at all. Ouma placed the cup on the table, not wanting to get too close, to scare him. Saihara leaned forward, steadying himself on his hands. He wasn't even sure if he would be able to hold the cup, weak and shaky as he was. The cup was cold and slick with condensation, shaking with his grip and threatening to spill the contents all over himself and the couch. He shot a pleading look at Ouma, quickly setting the cup back down. He didn't want to make a mess.</p><p>"Here, would you mind if I..?" Ouma did not finish his sentence, he didn't need to. Saihara gave a small nod, feeling useless as Ouma pressed the cup into his hands and guided him into drinking it. Saihara had control over the cup, Ouma was just giving him a little extra support. As soon as the cool liquid touched his lips, he could feel just how thirsty he was, a months dehydration coming to him all at once. He drank and drank and drank, even as the cold froze his throat. Ouma ushered a small warning, "Don't drink too fast, you'll choke.." and the detective slowed a little. Before either of them knew it, the water was all gone, the cup set back on the table. Saihara's throat didn't hurt so much anymore.</p><p>"Sit... Please..." Came his hoarse voice, rough from so long of <em>improper</em> usage. Ouma looked ecstatic as he sat next to Saihara, and even more so once the taller boy leaned on him. Ouma's skin didn't burn, didn't send fires licking across his body, choking him and reminding him how he was tainted. Ouma's touch was a warm breeze in spring, soft and sleepy kisses, body heat shared under blankets in the morning. Ouma was good touch, he was safe and soft and kind. And Saihara couldn't get enough of it.</p><p>"Mm. You're safe now, Shu.." Ouma whispered, soft but sturdy, all of what Saihara needed. "You're home... You'll never have to be afraid or hurt again. I'm gonna take care of you, nobody's ever going to hurt you again. You're safe, you really are, I promise." And that was more than enough to make relief seep into him. Relief and joy, cool and frosty, covering his bones and forcing tears out of him. He was home and he had Ouma to help him, and he was finally away and it wasn't all fake and... He was <em>safe</em>, really, truly safe. For the first time in a long, long, while, he was okay. He was home. He could cry without fear. He could hold Ouma close, sob into his shoulder, feel his boyfriend rub circles into his back. Listen to his voice, see the yellow-orange lighting of their shoddy apartment past cloudy tears. He could see the late morning sun out of the window and feel tears roll down his face, hot and wet and not so painful. And he did that, for a very long time, holding Ouma. He was alive. He was home.</p><p>He was safe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay this was, about 400 words shorter than I want it to be? But I like the way it's written and didn't know how to make it much longer without ruining it. Anyway whooo first two chapters out in a day how funky of me</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So uh. I have no idea where I'm going to go with this? Uh oh.<br/>Written in an attempt to figure out the whole last names thing, kind of, but like, literally no clue what I'm going to do with the story! Give feedback and stuff you know the drill ily ok bye</p></blockquote></div></div>
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